


K'atini

by firebird_writings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Light Angst, Spoiler for Chapter 14, Spoiler for Season 2 Episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27998580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebird_writings/pseuds/firebird_writings
Summary: The air in the Slave I gets too thick, and something must be done about it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	K'atini

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to do something to cope with the episode. It's not too deep, it's not too elaborate. It's just me airing out feelings. 
> 
> I hope you have fun(?) reading.

„Talk to him.”  
  
Fennec sat down into the co-pilot seat resolutely, her entire being telling Boba that she was not amused.  
  
„Why?” He didn’t want to go talk to the Mandalorian in the cargo hold. He was much happier flying the ship, thank you.  
  
„Because seeing him that miserable is making me depressed“, Fennec answered. Oh, you don’t say. There were almost waves of grief and guilt coming from the man. Of course that was making one depressed.  
  
„No“, he said with a sigh, half turning his body in his seat, „I meant, why me? If he upsets you, then you talk to him.“  
  
Fennec raised one scary eyebrow at him.  
  
„You are both Mandalorians.”  
  
„We are not the same“, Boba sniffed. As if it was that easy. He himself was barely Mandalorian, and even if he had sworn the Creed he would be of a different tribe than the one grieving on his ship. It was a miracle that he had his armor back, at all. He couldn’t even imagine the way the man must have grown up.  
  
„You are armor buddies“, Fennec argued with a finality in her voice that told him she would not rest until Boba fixed the problem.  
  
With an even deeper sigh he got up from the pilot seat. Thankfully the autopilot worked well, even though the motivator was having its moments after all those years. 

  


The cargo hold of the Slave I wasn’t very big to begin with. It was big enough for the essential necessities, and some nice things if you packed well enough. It was not big enough for one shiny Mandalorian and his regrets.  
  
The moment Boba stepped down into the hold he could feel the sorrow emanating from the Mando. It was like the air became thicker and a lot less easy to breathe. Mando sat exactly where he had practically fallen when they had boarded the ship. Seeing a Mandalorian, a proud warrior like Boba’s father had been, slumping to the floor as if all strength had left him had been hard for Boba. Never before had he been so glad that he was the pilot of his ship. He had escaped to the cockpit right away.  
  
And now Mando hadn’t moved a muscle. For what? Hours? The beskar spear lay disregarded beside him, as if it was not a priceless artifact and fearsome weapon.  
  
Boba shifted his weight uncomfortably, watching the slumped man.  
  
How do you console someone inconsolable?  
  
He remembered. He still knew what that felt like, and nothing anybody could have to him would’ve made it better. So how was he supposed to make it better?  
  
“He won’t hate you”, Boba said and tried to keep his voice level, tried to keep the memories at bay. He couldn’t relate to the Mandalorian’s situation but he knew how it felt to be unwillingly separated from his parent. Maybe that way he could help.  
  
“Why not?” Mando’s voice was void of emotion, of life. “I failed him.”  
  
“He won’t hate you”, he repeated and sat down on a crate.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
So Boba told him. He told him everything. The short version of how he had come to be, and how he had lost his father. He also told him about the Jedi; the one he blamed for his father’s death, and the one he had begrudgingly come to respect.  
  
“I don’t know much about the Force and ones who wield it.” He shook his head. “But I know that they can feel what other people are feeling. If they want to.” He leaned forward and picked up the spear. It was a simple but very beautiful weapon. He stood up and twirled the spear a few times, it was very well balanced. “Your child knows that you didn’t want to leave him, Mando.” He offered his hand to the Mandalorian. “Even without the Force. Like I knew that my father didn’t want to leave me. He knows it. And he knows that you’re coming for him.”  
  
The shiny helmet turned slightly, looking from Boba’s outstretched hand to the spear, and back. Then the Mandalorian grabbed onto his hand. Boba pulled him up.  
  
“You won’t be able to save your son sitting around!” He banged the end of the spear on the ground between them once. “Oya manda!”  
  
The Mandalorian gripped the spear, as well, right over where Boba was holding it, giving a small but determined nod.  
  
“Oya!”

**Author's Note:**

> K'atini = Endure!  
> Oya manda = Expression of Mandalorian solidarity  
> Oya = Let's hunt!


End file.
